


Sometimes You Can

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Spanking, Tessera, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 28: Innocence. John eavesdrops on a conversation the boys have about a past hunt and finds out Dean needs punishing.  Stern parental lecture and spanking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes You Can

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

John’s appreciated the time at Tessera, and he’s pretty sure that the boys feel the same. Time together when they aren’t in the middle of something hellacious – literally – only strengthens the Winchester family. Unfortunately, they’re in fairly close quarters for downtime, in a suite with two bedrooms, a sitting room/kitchen, and a large bathroom. It also provides the opportunity for little bits of family closeness that prudence might otherwise avoid – lord knows when it’s the three of them in one motel room, they know to keep their mouths shut, but not so much here. John’s had the time to appreciate Dean’s sense of humor, Sam’s intelligence, and recalled a couple things he isn’t keen on, like how much he detests Sam’s stubbornness. And that’s not his only dislike either.

Dean may look innocent and angelic, but he’s not. You find that out as soon as he opens his mouth, really. Boy damn well knows not to lie outright to his father, but at the same time the kid’s sneaky, John thinks. He’s positive the boys weren’t aware of his presence, as they bickered over a hunt a few months back, mostly because he usually steps in and breaks up pissy little arguments like the one they were having. Only, in this case, the intel he gathered was more important than a minor scolding for the bickering. He just spent an hour on the phone coaxing the rest of the story from Bobby, because the boys inevitably contact one of his friends if they don’t manage to check in with John after a hunt. John feels no guilt, eavesdropping on his children. And he could care less that they’re three months out from the hunt the two of them were discussing, he’s still going to make sure Dean understands how he feels about rushing into a situation without evaluating it first.

He takes a deep breath, listens to see if the argument is still ongoing, which it isn’t, and opens the door to their room without knocking. Fortunately they’re just lounging on the bed, Sam’s on his stomach, Dean’s hand on his brother’s back.

“Talked to Bobby,” he says gruffly, and both boys look wary. “Got a few details about that poltergeist you boys took care of a while back.”

It’s Sam who gets the oh shit look, and Dean who maintains an even expression. Interesting.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Told you about that, went in, got the job done,” he says, and sometimes John wonders just where it is that the boy’s brain wanders off too. Sam’s sunk a little lower into the pillow, another clear sign of guilt.

“Yep,” says John. “No reason, of course, why you take the homeowners word for it, assuming it’s a poltergeist, and go dashing in to waste it without any research before hand.” He sits down next to Sam, hearing a groan the boy tried to swallow without success. “Something you want to say, Sam?”

“I tried.”

“You tried what.”

“I tried to research. There, uh, wasn’t time.”

John notes that Dean is no longer looking straight at him.

“And why would that be, Dean? No, Sam, I asked your brother.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably. “I rushed him, ok? I thought I’d seen something like it before, and wanted to get it done, move on – we were supposed to meet you-“

“NONSENSE!” The roar erupts from John. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Sam, you let him rush you into a hunt?”

Sam picks at the comforter, which is enough confirmation for John.

“Did you let Sam give you ANY of the back story?” John’s voice is ominous, and he’s wondering to himself why he ever let himself go to ground without his sons for a year, and then let them hunt without him for how long? Given the number of bad habits they picked up, it was a bad idea. Sam’s looking at him defiantly.

“I should have researched it before I told him about it,” comes the terse comment from Sam.

“Oh, no, Sam. That’s not how this works. He’s older, he goddamn well KNOWS BETTER!” Dean’s actually fidgeting. Good. “I’m beginning to think I ought to debrief the two of you about the times when we’re apart, boys.” He’s met with silence. Sam’s peeking at him from underneath his bangs, which means he probably agrees but doesn’t want to agree, and John wonders just what he did to deserve reliving their childhood over and over again, because he and Dean had this particular discussion about ten years ago, not to mention the fact that the little showdown they had at Bobby’s isn’t that far in the past. “Samuel, go wait in the other room.”

“But Dad-“ John just reaches, and Sam’s out the door before his father can touch him, leaving him with a stoic yet slightly squirmy Dean.

“Got cocky, did you, Dean?” That gets a blush out of his normally level-headed son. “You remember what happened last time you went off and bullshitted your way though a hunt?”

“But Dad, it turned out ok…” He trails off, looking at the fury in John’s face. “Yessir, I remember,” he says, feeling about like he’s nineteen again. And he’s not going to enjoy the next … well, he’s got an uncomfortable sensation in his gut that it isn’t just going to be a few minutes. John sits down on the end of the bed, beckons a reluctant Dean over. He gets a good grip on Dean’s arm and squeezes.

“I’m glad you remember. We’re gonna repeat that experience here, and add a little something to it. You’re gonna spend the rest of the evening sitting at the kitchen table writing out a sitrep on that hunt.”

“Yessir.” His boy is woefully subdued. He hates writing out the situation reports detailing the hunts from start to finish, and John knows it. “Um, sir?”

“What.”

“Could we, maybe wait until a little later?”

What the hell, has he lost his mind entirely? “Why.”

“Uh, Tess is supposed to be coming by to check on the rashes I’ve still got on my legs…”

John feels pleasantly diabolical upon taking in that little piece of news.

“No. Pants down, boy.” Dean complies, and John is none to gentle, yanking the boy across his knees. He doesn’t bother to lecture, just starts in with hard and fast swats that quickly turn Dean’s pale skin red, leaving handprint after handprint across his backside and upper thighs. He doesn’t hesitate, just keeps bringing the stinging swats down over and over again until Dean hollers out an apology. Then he pauses for the lecture. “Headlong into a hunt without intel will get you killed, boy. You think I want to have to come identify you in a morgue? You want Sam to have to do that, someday?” Dean stiffens with what John imagines must be horror and he resumes swatting furiously, and the brilliant red begins to turn a little dusky as he hears a sniffle, sees Dean’s shoulders bow and his face press harder into the comforter. He pauses again.

“I’ll be damned if I have you out there not thinking before you act, son. I don’t care if it takes me having you in this position after every damn hunt, and frankly I’d rather not. So you mind your manners, you hear me?” He gets a muffled yessir from his boy, hears how his voice is choked with tears, and steels himself. “Now count. Up to twenty-nine, and you be thinking about how you’re too old for this shit with every one.” He places the blows hard and slow, listening to Dean’s voice wavering on the numbers, until the last one is finally reached. He stands his boy up, pulls up his pants for him, which has the kid blushing even more furiously. He cups the back of Dean’s head in his big hand.

“I’m disappointed I had to do that, Dean. Now go wash your face, and I’ll expect you out at that table in ten minutes.”

“Yessir.”

Sam’s got his head down on the table when John comes out, and he doesn’t doubt that Sam heard every swat, and is sitting there wondering if it’s his turn. He takes a seat with his younger boy.

“Look at me, Sam.” Sam doesn’t sit up, but lifts his head enough to peek at him. “You’re not responsible for your brother. I trust you tried to convince him otherwise.”

“Maybe not hard enough.” His head goes back down.

“Maybe you tell me, Sam. Do I need to put you over my knee, too?”

Sam looks horrified, but clearly takes a minute to think about it. It’s one of the things he loves about his son. “Dad… I… Nosir, you don’t. But I still feel guilty.”

John nods, understands. “That’s fine. You use that to try harder next time, if that lesson doesn’t get through your brother’s thick head. Dismissed.”

Sam gets up, and goes to flee out the door to the suite, probably heading for the library. Except he doesn’t make it out the door, running into Tess, who was about to knock. She catches him, and John admires her balance and strength – six foot four of hurrying Sammy can knock even John off balance at times. He’s stammering an apology, and she holds him at arm’s length, wrings a confession out of him.

“So your father told you that you could go, and you leap to get out of your rooms?”

“Yes ma’am?” Sam knows he’s screwed up, but the tone of his voice indicates he’s not sure how.

“Don’t you think it would be better to talk things out with your father instead of running away again, Sam?” He blushes, and she plants a couple swats on his rear end. “Go get your brother out here for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Luscious Jackson - Why Do I Lie


End file.
